If I were a mean older sister, I might talk about how when you were really young we used to dress you up in dresses and call you Natalie. I might post pictures of the mullet you sported from the age of two until you were about seven (seven! much too old to think that mullets are cool!) I would probably even tell the story of the time you cut your bangs off (completely off - you just had a sad little tuft at the top of your forehead) with Dad's mustache scissors and then finished your look by dumping a bottle of Mom's eau de toilette on your head.
It's a good thing I'm not a mean older sister.
Happy 21st birthday, Westy!